In my imagination, I could never see her face. I couldn’t design her features, not even vague guesses. What I could picture was a small heart-shaped head between my palms, and tender closed fists covering the lips.
5 days ago, she came into this world. And she surprised me with her delightful appearance. So much more little, and so much more tender. Her tiny nose looked to me like her father’s. Her thin, pink lips like no one else in this world. Her slender, long body wrapped carefully in soft orange cloth, and her fingers. Her fingers are her most beautiful feature. Soft, long and smooth as butter. And her tiny nails look pruned and perfectly shaped.
She sleeps still, and even in her sleep, she hears our voices and dreams. And somewhere amidst her dreaming, for a flash of a second, she smiles. And the room around her is filled with jubiliant sighs and chuckles.
She loves the warm arms of her young father, who cradles them to hold her up close to his heart, and calls out nicknames in his low endearing voice, to which she opens her little doe-eyes.
She loves the arms of her young mother, who gives her warmth and feeds her, and after she has had her fill, she stretches her tiny limbs, and falls asleep in her arms.
She loves the newfound freedom of stretching her limbs. She’s learnt to cry in discomfort. She’s learnt to uncurl her fingers and toes. She’s out here, in this world, and yet, she is out of this world. She is somewhere else soulwise, has closed her eyes to everything else, and is still in conversation with God.